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island.
    â€œHudsy! What in the hell is going on here?” John said. He stepped off the boat and toward Hudson and ruffled his hair. “Has there always been a ladies’ man hiding behind that smart-kid exterior?”
    â€œHey, guys,” Hudson said. “Um, what are you doing here?”
    â€œWhat the shit else do we have to do? The better question is, what are you doing here? And why are you wet? And who is this?” John said, looking from Hudson to Leila, then back at Hudson.
    â€œAnd what the hell is she doing here with you?” Richie chimed in, making no effort to hide the fact that he was staring at Leila, her wet clothes clinging to her body. He ran a hand through his beard, which was red and bushy and had been his trademark since his facial hair started growing in ninth grade.
    â€œI’m Leila,” she said simply, offering a wave, making a slight effort to cover herself up.
    The three boys exchanged looks. Scott took a step toward Hudson and gave him a strong pat on the back. “Where’d you find her?”
    Hudson shrugged, then looked at John and tried to convey with just his eyes that the boys were interrupting at the worst possible time and should immediately get back into the boat and leave him alone with Leila. If his eyes managed to say that, though, John wasn’t listening. And if John didn’t lead their pals away, there was no way the other two would take the initiative.
    â€œWell, Leila, nice to meet you. Now, who wants to get drunk?” John pulled out a can of beer and opened it with a satisfying snap, immediately putting it to his lips to control the foam. Richie and Scott followed his lead and popped open their own cans.
    â€œWe weren’t gonna stay long,” Hudson said. “I’ve got that interview tomorrow.”
    â€œOh, shit, that’s right,” John said. After another long gulp he looked at Leila. “What about you? Do you have an interview tomorrow?”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œGood,” he said, grabbing another beer from the pack he’d set at his feet and offering it to her. “You guys in for a game, then?”
    Scott and Richie cheered their approval and bashed their cans together in a toast that preceded another long swig. “I can’t, man,” Hudson said. “We should probably be heading back soon anyway. I just wanted to show her the island.”
    â€œShe won’t have really seen it if she doesn’t play Drunkball.” John took another quick sip. “One round and then you can go. She can stay.” He looked at Leila and winked, and Hudson felt that sensation that must have been what people meant when they said their hearts sank.
    Leila looked over at Hudson, still so close to him that he could pull her in for a kiss, if only he could gather the will to lean all the way in. How he could see the greenness of her irises through the darkness he didn’t quite understand. “One game?” she asked.
    Hudson took a deep breath, mostly to try to pull his heart back up into its rightful place. Every moment with her in it was a treasure, even if he had to share her. “Okay,” he said. “It is kind of pointless to come here and not play Drunkball.”
    Leila accepted the beer from John, and the five of them started walking toward the thicket of trees. Thankfully the trees were spaced far enough apart that they could maneuver through them unharmed. It was as if the island had known in advance what it would be used for and wanted to offer just enough protection from the outside, adult world for the teenagers who’d someday claim it. Beyond the trees was a large clearing, although it was too dark to make out anything there.
    Scott broke off from the group and headed toward the shed, then flicked on the generator, and the lights came on. The lights were about knee high, set up around the perimeter of the field and pointing inward so that the entire area, about